


Feral Mage

by WolfwithSnakeEyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal, Feral Behavior, Feral Mage, M/M, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Roughness, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:37:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfwithSnakeEyes/pseuds/WolfwithSnakeEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vernon was approached b a figure that had an offer he couldn't refuse. Train Harry to be feral and to fight for money. What Vernon wasn't aware of was how the figure was instead manipulating him to make Harry a Feral Mage, which were dangerous and highly unpredictable without an anchor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feral Mage

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own Harry Potter... Boo.

Vernon watched as Dudley’s little gang of friends surrounded the freak. He let a smile grace his face for an instant. Then the freak began to fight back. He was scrappy and he was outmaneuvering the other boys. Vernon didn’t like that. The boy was supposed to fall to the ground and take what was coming to him.

“He yours?” Vernon turned to a standing just behind him. He was wearing a long coat and a top hat. His fingers were running over his mustache and his eyes had a glint to them.

“No, he’s mine,” Vernon gestured over to Dudley, “The freak is just my nephew.”

“Ah,” the man nodded. “Too bad you could have made a pretty penny off that boy.”

Vernon turned to look at Harry then back at the man, “What do you mean?”

“Well if he were yours,” the man paused then continued, “Let me tell you I haven’t seen a fighter like him in many years. And I have only seen one in my life time.”

“A fighter like him?” Vernon echoed.

“Look at him,” the man gestured. Vernon turned to Harry. “Look how he moves; it’s like and instinct that he doesn’t understand yet.” Vernon saw Piers come up behind Harry and the boy duck just at the right moment. “He senses things, and moves in the split second after. Then look at his eyes,” Vernon looked at the boys eyes, not understanding what he was to be seeing. “Do you see it?” Vernon looked back at the man. The man looked him in the eye. “He has the will to live. You can see that overwhelming urge to do anything to continue on in his existence. I sure he is exceptionally good at blending in and adapting to any situation. But that is only under the surface layer, as the surface layer shows only what he wants you to see. I’m sure he comes off submissive, but you get the feeling that he isn’t really. But again that doesn’t matter. What matters is the deepest layer, and if you don’t know what you’re looking at you will miss it.” Vernon turned to the boy again. “The boy is feral underneath it all, an animal if you will. It’s hidden and not let out enough to take over and give the boy the edge, but it could be. And that is what would give you the edge if he enters in the underground fighting circuit.”

“Fighting circuit?” Vernon felt like a parrot.

“Yeah, only brought to the attention of important figures, such as potential fighters and their guardians.” The man’s smirk was decidedly vicious.

“And you think he,” Vernon pointed to Harry, “Has potential?”

“Why yes, yes I do.”  The man took a step forward, “With the right training of course.”

Vernon paused. This man was handing him a boon. But could he follow through with what would need to be done. For all he knew he would have to do things that he wouldn’t wish to, something that he would loathe. The thought of money, and then the thought of turning the boy into some monster brought a smile spread across his face. “What kind of training.”

“Your simple dog fight training,” the man shrugged. “After all you want to bring out the animal after all.”

“Do you mean starvation, beating, and the like?” asked Vernon.

“No,” the man’s smile widened if possible. “No, the thing is that never works. If you treat a beast as such, if you back it into a corner, then it’ll turn on you. Viciously so, claiming all you love and ripping it to shreds.” The man shrugged at Vernon’s expression.

Vernon drew back and thought about how they had treated the boy for the last couple of years. He was six now, so that’s five years of abuse. He just hoped the boy would forget the past, forget his treatment. “Then how do I go about it.”

“First give him something to lose. Love, family, a nice living space, lovely cloths. Then put the boy in a room with a rabbit, a mean rabbit that likes to bite. Tell him he can have his room back if he kills the rabbit. Leave him to it. Tell him that you would love him, give him a treat when he first hurts the rabbit, and then give him his space back when he accomplishes his task. Cook the rabbit in front of him, make him eat it. Repeat the process two more times or so. Then set him against something he has to fight, a fighting dog. Do that until he can take it down no problem. Set him in the woods teach him how to start a fire, how to skin a rabbit and how to make weapons with only a pocket knife and string. Then leave him there tell him you’ll be back in three days, and that if he catches and kills an animal he can come home. A week later, do the same again, tell him he has to catch and eat a bigger animal. Then again one more time, tell him to catch a predator, or a deer if he hasn’t already. Let him keep the trophy’s, tell him your proud, give him a gift. Then set him in lessons, boxing, karate, any fighting style available, tell him to master it. Pick harsh teachers. Then give me a call.” The man hands Vernon a card. “I’ll set him up in the fights, and help you create a trigger.”

“A trigger?”

“Well after you instill the animal in him, he can’t very well go around like that, so you instill a trigger through hypnosis, to turn the animal off and on.”

Vernon turns back to Harry the card in hand, before looking back to see that the bloke had disappeared. He looked down at the card; it read ‘Abraxas Malafede’.

The man was already a block and a half away when Vernon called Harry and Dudley to him. He smiles cruelly, knowing his master would be pleased. As he walked it was as if his disguise fell from his figure. He stood now, taller, long platinum hair, pinned back, his clothes infinitely of better quality.

Abraxas was the only one his master had shared his plans with, and the only one who knew of the horcruxes, that dear Tom had made. When he had first set out to find the boy who brought Tom, his master to his knees, he was going to kill him. But then, when he had actually found the boy. He had noticed right away the magic that emanated from his forehead.

He did research then, and verified that the prophesy had already been fulfilled and that neither his lord or the child had any obligations to it. So he went back to privet drive, and came up with a plan.

By getting Vernon, a very greedy man to train Harry as such, to make him Feral, would give his lord a great pawn. Very few wizards actually have the ability to become a Feral Mage, but it is very dark magic. Usually the parents stamp it out of the child at a very young age, but Vernon had unknowingly promoted such a force in the boy. This fact drove Abraxas into a state, excitement taking hold of him. When he had first witnesses the signs he was so very happy.

Then after Vernon is down with him, when he calls, Abraxas will teach the boy about hiding, will build him a mask, one that won’t break until Abraxas thinks the time is right. He wanted to jump for joy, but he didn’t, Malfoys don’t hold to such frivolousness.

Then there is also the fact that Harry won’t be loyal to anyone other than another Feral Mage, and there is only one other boy as such in this day and age. Of course the boy’s father stamped most of it out, but it lurked at the edges of his core, and would forever stay there, Abraxas had made sure as such.

Abraxas turned on his heel, apperating away in a crack.

Vernon walked slowly behind the boys. He had decided that he would turn Harry into a fighter, but that would leave Dudley in the dust, and unable to handle Harry more than likely. No he couldn’t have that. But that would mean some tough love for his boy, forcing him into fighting lesson—with teachers much like in Harry’s final stages of training—and making him into a man. Petunia wouldn’t be happy about it, but she would live with it, and abide his decision.

As they reached the house he opened the door, seeing Harry flinch away and scurry across the hall to his cupboard. Dudley beamed up at him.

“Dudley off to bed with you.” Vernon ordered. “Petunia!”

Dudley gave him a startled look at his tone but did as he was told. His father never used that tone with him, only Harry, and so he thought it best to do as told. Petunia came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. “Yes Vernon.” She gave him a gentle smile.

“Kitchen pet,” Petunia nodded, noting the serious tone in her husband’s voice and features.

“Alright Vernon,” she walked back into the kitchen locking the cupboard under the stairs for good measure as she went. Vernon was behind her and sat down heavily on a chair at the table. Petunia sat beside him, angling herself toward him, “What is it Vernon? What did the freak do this time?”

“No Pet,” Vernon shook his head. “I was approached today, by a business man.”

Petunia tilted her head, confused. Vernon usually didn’t converse with her about anything to do with business.

“He is in the field of finding professional fighters,” Vernon continued. He had to spin this just right. “He saw both the boys today at the part and saw potential. More than potential really. Dudley would do well with strict teachers, but the boy would take more work and a more specialized training regimen.”

Petunia smiled, “That’s wonderful Vernon.”

“The Fr-Harry, will need to be treated differently now. He will get Dudley’s second bedroom, a couple sets of new cloths, and we will give him the opportunity to decorate it, make it his own. The man said that this was important. We will call him by his name, and feed him a proper diet. That sort of thing.”

“Vernon?”

“I know Pet, it will be difficult, but he can bring in a lot of money if we do this right.”

Petunia frowned, but nodded.

“I think Pet that you and Dudley should go on a trip for a few weeks, maybe off to Italy or Paris. I want to start Dudley and Harry off at the same time in their training, but Harry will need some extra pre-training beforehand.”

“I’ve always wanted to see Paris.” Petunia offered.

Vernon smiled. He had her. “Alright Pet. Tomorrow before we get Harry out of the cupboard, we need to clean the bedroom. Then you will take him to get cloths, and things to decorate his room and the like. You know bedspread, things for a desk, a couple of posters, and three toys.”

Petunia sneered but nodded.

“And Pet you need to be nice.”

~*~

Harry cringed as his cupboard door slid open. His aunt stuck her head in and smiled. Harry froze. His aunt never smiled. Only Dudley got smiles, never freaks. Did he do something right? Did he do something wrong?

“Come on Harry, time to get up.” Petunia grabbed his arm and pulled him from the cupboard.

She dragged a reluctant Harry into the kitchen sitting him at the table.

“Would you like eggs Harry?” Petunia asked. “Maybe some ham?”

She was turned from her, Harry made to answer, knowing her would only make her mad if he didn’t. “Ye-yes Aunt Petunia.”

She turned with a plate that had more food than he had ever been aloud at one time, it couldn’t be for him. Then she placed it in front of him, “It as much as you’d like boy.”

Harry looked wide eyed at the food before hesitantly taking his fork up and taking a bite. When she didn’t move to take it from him he began to shovel the food into his mouth.

Petunia turned with a grimace, she wished to reprimand him, but couldn’t. Vernon said that the boy should be prompted to act like an animal, that, that was his primary fighting style and he needed to live it. She honestly didn’t get the concept, but wasn’t going to interfere in her husband’s plans for the boy.

It took mere minutes for him to eat everything on his plate, and gulp down all of his orange juice. He finished just as Vernon came in.

“Harry,” the man was brisk.

Harry’s head shot up, and shrunk back into his chair. He didn’t know what was going on, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. “Uncle,” he answered.

“Come along,” the whale man turned and ambled out the door. Harry scrambled after him, he didn’t want his uncle mad.

Uncle Vernon took him upstairs and into Dudley’s second room. Only there was nothing in it. Only a bed stripped of any sheets, a desk and chair, shelves running along the walls all two feet from the ceiling, and a wardrobe. All of Dudley’s things were gone. The room was bare.

“This is your new room,” Vernon said. “Your aunt is going to take you out to get a few things. You will be allowed to get one poster, three toys, and a set of sheets and blanket of your choice. Your aunt will pick out your cloths. Do not whine, and do not ask for anything else. Is that understood bo-Harry?”

Harry’s eyes were wider then they had ever been, “Yes sir.”

“You will also see the eye doctor today, so behave. Meet your aunt in the foyer in five minutes.” With that Vernon was out of the room.

~*~

Harry lay on his bed staring up at his new ceiling, in his new room. On his wall was the poster he picked out earlier. It read: ‘Watch your thoughts, for they become words. Watch your words, for they become actions. Watch your actions, for they become habits. Watch your habits, for they become character. Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.’ His aunt directed him to it; he didn’t want to disappoint her so he chose it. On his bed were new tan sheets with a green camouflage blanket and a pillow to match. On his floor was a rug that his aunt picked out to match the bedding. He was allowed to pick out a few toys. One was his wolverine action figure. He had heard Dudley taking about the character at school and had thought him to be so cool, so when he saw it and asked his aunt about it she told him it was wolverine, muttering all along how much Dudder’s would like one too. She ended up with two. The figure was currently on his desk, right beside his bed. His second was a stuffed animal in the shape of a doe. For some reason it made him feel safe and loved. He hadn’t named her yet, but she was lying on his bed with him. The third was an inexpensive tiny guitar. His aunt sad he was only allowed to play it before seven o’clock in the evening. He had it on a stand in the corner of his room.

On his desk were a few new books. Special books. When aunt Petunia took him to the eye doctor he had been diagnosed blind, his vision was so bad and so blurry that not even glasses could help. His aunt had asked how he had gotten around on his own all this time, like he could still see. The doctor said that Harry’s situational awareness was off the charts, and his other senses were supersonic. He had said it was uncommon but that it did happen occasionally. But that didn’t help Harry with reading or school. So he helped them with books that would teach him how to read brail, and help with school. Harry was also given a cane that he had no intention of using unless made to. As far as he was concerned he could see just fine, just differently. It was like he felt what he was supposed to be seeing, especially in areas he frequented regularly. Reading was different but he had survived so far.

“Harry,” he was jerked out of his trance as his name was called.

He got off the bed and rushed for the door. Opening it he rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen from where his aunt had called.

“Harry sit down, it’s time for dinner.” Harry gave a weary look and took the seat that his uncle gestured him to. Harry noticed Dudley was still gone and most likely at a friend’s house. “Here you go.” There was that smile again as she placed a plate in front of him.

Harry looked to his uncle. The man didn’t smile at him, but he wasn’t glaring, and he wasn’t disgruntled. Harry was so lost.

~*~

Harry walked into the kitchen, tip-toing his way into the room. It had been little over a week since his relatives had changed their attitude towards Harry, but his aunt hadn’t woken him this morning like usual, and he hadn’t heard Dudley bounding around like an elephant. It didn’t sit well with him.

Harry was far from stupid, he knew there was a reason behind all of this, and wasn’t so naïve as to think that he was being treated kindly for nothing. He knew there was a price; he just hadn’t paid it yet.

~*~

Harry walked sedately through the platform, Sirius beside him and Remus following just behind. The other guards were placed throughout the platform in strategic places to keep an eye on the situation. He was just about to the train when he heard it. A low whistle—vreeeeeeeeeeeeeeew—sounded off in the distance. Sirius whined immediately, falling and covering his ears with his paws. Remus brought his own hands up and covered his ears, letting out a cry. Harry froze. Something clicked inside him, no not clicked, woke up.

He knew that he wasn’t all he was supposed to be. He knew that he had certain triggers that set him off, without any fore warning, or memory of how he got them. And he knew that he lived constantly as if on autopilot, just waiting to be turned on again. He knew all this, but didn’t know how to go about fixing it.

But now he could feel it. He could feel himself stirring and coming alive like never before. He needed to sit down. His head was beginning to pound. He slowly but surely began his trek towards the train once again, leaving Sirius and Remus behind. Neither noticed Harry’s abrupt departure.

He stumbled onto the train, making for the last compartment, knowing he would be the only one there. He slide the compartment door open and walked in dragging his trunk and Hedwig’s cage (empty) behind him. He left the trunk in the middle of the compartment, before closing and locking the door with a nifty spell Hermione had demonstrated for him. He collapsed on the seat, closing his eyes, and feeling very much like his head was going to explode. Memories began to flash before his eyes.

_Harry sat in the dingy shed, tear tracks running down his face, he looked up as a sliver of light slid across his face. His uncle stood in the door and smiled down at him._

_“I see you finally let your baser urges take over,” the giant man bent to pick up the six year old, holding him to his chest for the very first time, almost like a hug, “Good boy Harry, very good.” Harry began to cry anew as Vernon held up the rabbit he had thrown into the shed two days prior with Harry, telling the little boy to kill it. The act had taken a day for Harry to wrap his head around. He had never thought about committing something so fundamentally wrong before._

_And he had known it was wrong. But then his uncle had come back and told Harry of his disappointment, and that he would spend another night in the shed to think about it some more._

_Then Harry hunger had taken hold and he had to get out, had to eat something, anything. That was when he realized his uncle feeding him on a regular basis wasn’t always a good thing, after all now when he grew hungry, the hunger pains of starvation were that much more painful because he knew what it was to not be hungry all the time._

_So he had done it, taking the little pocket knife Vernon had given him and stabbed the rabbit. The rabbit didn’t die right away though, forcing Harry to stab it again and again, trying to relieve it of its pain._

_Harry learned a very important thing that day. He now knew of vital points. Or in other words, places in the body that would give an instant kill, and other places that would make them suffer._

_Vernon had taken him into the house then, and shown him how to skin it, and then cook it. He made Harry eat his first kill, and taste the animal’s blood._

_It was at that moment that six-year-old Harry realized what his uncle wanted him to become. His uncle wanted him to become a monster… the kind that scarred children at night, and lurked in the shadows, the kind that grown men cowered from, and the kind that could take someone or something apart completely and twist it to its own ends._

_Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to become such a creature, but if it meant hugs and food and survival, then he felt that there wasn’t really a choice in the matter._

_Harry cried as he ate the seared rabbit meat, feeling the blood drip from his lips as he uncle watched on._

Harry jerked, clutching his hand to his head and groaned just as more memories flooded his system.

_Vernon took him out to the shed and this time handed him another rabbit. This was the fourth one and Harry just took the struggling creature, immediately snapping its neck and looking up at his uncle. His uncle grinned down at him._

_“Good job Harry, we can finally call your aunt and cousin home.” His uncle ruffled his hair and picked him up. “What do you want for dinner tonight? You can pick out anything you want.”_

_Harry looked at his uncle, “Can I have beef steaks? Dudley got them a while back and I wanna try one.”_

_Vernon smiled, steaks were something that he could undercook and give to the boy bloody. Which was a goal. He encouraged the boy’s rabid behavior when it came to food, figuring the more animal that the boy was, the better he would be at instinctual fighting. This meant that he and Petunia would have to home school the boy but he was sure that it just might be for the better._

Harry’s head jerked back hitting the wall.

_Harry is seven now and he is left in the woods. This isn’t the first time. He was told he had to catch an animal, stalk it, hunt it, and kill it. He was supposed to catch something really big._

_Harry caught sight of his target. A silver wolf, with yellow eyes._

_Harry ran forward in a leap bring his tiny knife down in an arc._

Flash…

_Harry is eight and he is at his Aunt Marge’s house. His aunt isn’t there and he and uncle Vernon were supposed to dispose of a rabid mutt._

_Harry was facing off with the creature in a pit his uncle had thrown them into. The dog lunged._

Flash…

_His uncle left him in the middle of London. His mission was to acquire a finger or ear of someone evil._

Flash…

_Harry was thrown hard into a mat, his karate teacher standing above him, a stoic face on. Harry leapt forward a snarl on his lips as he ducked the blow aimed for his head and seized the man’s wrist. His sensei jerked out of his hold, knocking him to the ground once more._

_Harry’s only consolation was that Dudley was made to attend all of his lessons as well._

Flash…

_A man in a top hat with a mustache approached his uncle in long strides before introducing himself to Harry._

_The man took him into another room, and sat him down. He looked into the man’s eyes as he heard a whistle. He felt like a portion of himself had fallen asleep, like he wasn’t all there. Harry walked out of the office in a haze._

Flash…

_Harry faced off with a man at least three times his size. The man charged. Harry ducked and struck up, using his long finger nails to sink into the man’s neck. He ripped them back, leaving deep gouges. The man screamed and Harry kicked him in the side of the head as he fell to his knees. The man was out cold._

_There was a whistle and fog had fallen over him again._

Flash…

_Uncle Vernon dropped him off with the man in the top hat once more. The man was leading him through a park._

_He was supposed to see a very special boy today, but not talk to him._

_The Top Hat Man sat him on a bench and sat beside him. He pointed to the playground where only a few children were playing. One stuck out against the rest. He was the prettiest boy Harry had ever seen and he was sitting on the top of the slide, reading a book.  He had platinum blonde hair and the palest skin Harry had ever seen._

_“Do you see him Harry?” the man asked, “The pretty blonde boy?”_

_“Yes,” Harry nodded._

_“He is a very special boy Harry,” the man spoke softly._

_After a moment, Harry couldn’t help the feeling growing within him; he had to ask, “Is he for me?”_

_The man laughed, “Why yes Harry he is, and in time you shall have him.”_

_A feral grin spread across his face and the man let him sit there all afternoon and watch the pretty boy play and read._

_When sun began to set, a blonde man came, calling for the boy. Harry had learned his… just his… was named Draco. Just as the boy began to leave he turned back and ran to get the book he had forgotten. He picked it up and looked happened to catch Harry’s eyes. Harry saw the boy gasp and Harry smiled, mouthing the word, ‘Mine’ over and over again._

_The boy jerked out of Harry’s gaze as his father called for him once more. Harry heard a whistle…_

Flash…

_He met with the man with the top hat again, Vernon was yelling, telling the man to bury the monster in the boy for good. That the no good freaks were coming for him._

_The man took him into another room once more and looked into his eyes._

_“Harry, I need you to listen to me yes?”_

_Harry nodded. He didn’t trust him, but he would listen._

_“For the next few years you’re going to have to go to sleep and let the Fog Harry take over,” (Fog Harry was Harry’s term for what he was when most of himself was forced to the back of his consciousness.) “You will have to play the part of a good boy to go under a very dangerous man’s radar until the lord comes back to life, which I have no doubt you shall play a crucial part in. When the time is right I shall awaken you.”_

_Harry didn’t have time to react as he heard the whistle and the fog took hold._

Harry found himself curled into a ball on the bench when he had finally seen the last of the memories. He hit his temple as if to dislodge the feeling of coming back into his own skin.

“That was interesting,” Harry laughed.

Smiling he was happy to finally be awake once more. He had always known what was happening in his life, seen what was happening to him through the haze of being held in his own mind. He had his own opinions where Fog Harry had none and was severely influenced by his surroundings. Fog Harry was for hiding, for surviving. That was what the Top Hat man said at least.

Harry shook his head at the idiocy that was his mask. How the boy was mediocre in school when Harry himself had been preparing for his A level tests, he hadn’t a clue. It might be that he couldn’t read the texts and relied on heard lectures. He hated that Fog Harry hadn’t actually carried on the ability to read brail. Why something’s about himself were transferred over, others were not. Fog Harry had his different way of seeing things—through magic sensing—he still couldn’t study like most because he couldn’t see written words. Though Fog Harry had come up with the solution of writing his notes hard onto his parchment and imprinting the words onto the page, and felt the words on the page with his figures.

Harry shook his head, he needn’t worry about that now though, he was back and Fog Harry didn’t exist anymore as far as he was concerned.

He got off the bench, kicking his trunk roughly away and striding to the door and out into the hallway. He was feeling decidedly cooped up. That was when he realized that the train had yet to leave the station. Snorting he set off again with no place in mind other than to move about.

He found himself in the bathroom minutes later and looking into the merrier. Not much had changed. He had a growth-spurt over the summer while at the Dursley’s, he wasn’t as tall as Ron or Dudley but he was certainly taller than Draco and Hermione. His hair was as wild as it usually was, maybe more. He was tan from his yard work this summer, and muscled just as he always had been. Fog Harry had always wondered why he had been in such good shape; Harry knew it was his long rigorous training that he had endured for years. He would take it up again. His eyes were what really caught his attention though. They sparked green, the color of the killing curse and had a wild edge to them, as before they were dull and dead.

He splashed water on his face and looked at his wardrobe. His jeans were only a little big, hanging low on his hips. He was wearing a sweater, maroon in color and itchy, so he chucked it, leaving it there on the floor. Underneath was an undershirt, and Harry had decided that he hated sleeves. In one swift movement he grabbed the sleeve and ripped down, tearing one sleeve away and then the other. Looking down he noticed that he was wearing shoes and shucked them off with his socks, he didn’t need them. He hadn’t actually worn shoes until he turned eleven and that blasted letter condemned him to his own mind. That was why Vernon had just given Harry a pair of Dudley’s old ones that were far too big, he knew the boy would most likely hate wearing them whether they were new or not.

He turned to the mirror again and took in his appearance once more. A feral smile lite his lips, his eyes swirling with deathly green, his hair looking as if he’d just been shagged; his sleeveless undershirt a little too short, and his jeans ridding low, showing his midriff and hardened stomach, and his toes free.

He left the bathroom, leaving his unwanted things there. Either the elves will realize it’s his and bring them along to the castle or they will dispose of them, he didn’t care one way or another.

He walked down the hall again and when people started to notice him, a hushed whisper started down the train. It was only seconds before he heard footsteps behind him.

“Potter! What in blazes are you doing?” a snide voice sneered at him from behind.

Harry turned to see Draco standing there, Greengrass beside and a little in front of him, while Parkinson, Zambini, Crabbe, and Goyle, stood behind him.

Harry’s smile got bigger showing his sharp canine teeth, and he took a step towards them, looking very much like a lion stalking his prey. “Malfoy,” Harry purred.

“Explain Potter, why it is you see fit to run around looking like a hooligan and showing far more skin then necessary in polite company.” Greengrass sneered.

Harry slid forward, crowding her, and putting an arm up on the wall behind her. “I’m not polite company Greengrass.” Harry said in a sultry voice, causing the girl to freeze and her breath to hitch.

“Potter!” Draco exclaimed beat red.

Harry looked over his shoulder at the blonde and smirked. He turned from the girl and in a movement to fast caught Draco around the waist with one arm and capturing both the boys hands in the other as Draco raised them to fend him off. “Jealous Draco dear? Not to worry, I only have eyes for one.” The growl that came out after was entirely possessive as he lent forward capturing the squawking blonde in a kiss. Draco struggled for a second before his movements became sluggish and he moaned, giving Harry access to his mouth.

“Harry!” Harry didn’t have to turn to know it was Ron who had yelled. “What the bloody badgering _hell_ do you think you are doing?”

As Harry pulled away he drug Draco’s bottom lip out with his teeth, causing the blonde to whine. He still had Draco in a firm hold against the corridor wall and turned his head to see an angry Ron and a worried Hermione standing there in front of a crowd of people.

“I am _trying_ to get a lay Ron. If you weren’t being dim you could see that. Now bugger off.” Harry said.

“With the ferret Harry? And I thought you like girls?” Ron yelled.

“He is bloody beautiful,” Harry turned to Draco and murmured, “And isn’t that a picture I’d love to see.” Then turned back to Ron, “And well the girl thing was a faze I suppose.”

“A faze?”

“Mmm, yeah.”

“That was hot Harry,” Fred, who was behind Ron and Hermione, spoke up.

“Mind if we join?” George asked.

Harry growled, “Get your own, I just caught mine, I’m not gonna let you have him.”

“Merlin I’m going to faint,” Ron mumbled, looking pale.

“Harry? Harry are you alright? Are you under a spell?” Hermione asked.

“No, I was under a spell, past tense,” Harry offered.

“Was?”

“Yes Hermione, I have been under a spell since I turned eleven. The spell just broke.” Harry said grin feral as he turned to her.

Hermione brought her hands up to her mouth in shock.

Harry turned to see Draco staring at him with wide eyes. “Now if you’ll all excuse me I have a beauty to see to.”

“Wha-“ Draco yelled as Harry lifted him up and over his shoulder. “Put me down Potter.”

“I don’t think I shall,” Harry said mimicking Harry’s voice. “I think I want to bugger you through the floor. Harry noticed that Draco’s blush traveled down fairly far as the portion of stomach that was revealed to him because the blondes shirt had un-tucked and ridden up was as red as any Gryffindor sweater.

“Put me down! I’ll tell my father… I’ll tell the headmaster… Snape,” Draco squeaked as Harry slapped his ass.

“Settle down,” he kept his hand firmly on the round cheek, giving it a squeeze.

“T-ten thousand points from Gryffindor!”

“The reason?” Harry asked.

“Molestation of a prefect and unwilling student of Hogwarts,” Draco said in a rushed yell.

“Hmm, I think that is abuse of authority, maybe I should punish you,” he slapped the pert ass again.

They had finally reached his compartment and Harry threw Draco onto the bench before turning to lock the door.

Draco scrambled away from him, “What gives you the right, just because you are the boy who lived doesn’t mean-“

Harry grabbed his leg and jerked him back, Harry on top of him with Draco’s legs spread open. “You have been mine since the top hat man gave you to me when I was eight.” Harry growled.

Draco gaped at him, “No, no that wasn’t you. That boy that sat an-and watched me all day with my grandfather wasn’t you.”

Harry cocked his head, “I wasn’t aware he was your grandfather but yes, that was in fact me.” Harry then leapt forward and captured Draco’s lips. “You are mine Draco, always have been.”


End file.
